I Think I Hurt My Back
by insertrandom
Summary: Decades after Tsuna was named the official Tenth of the Vongola Family, life went on as naturally as they could make possible. Here are their stories of sad, tender and humour – complete with back aches and more. Chrome-centric. Distant Future.
1. They Forgot Their Medication Again

Gokudera drummed his fingers on the mahogany table's smooth top, alone in a conference room in the Vongola base. The autumn leaves of Potenza enticed him to step outside of the damned, dreary building – only he did not want to. Going outside would potentially break that precious silence he loved.

He recounted his younger days, when the him back then was the converse version of the him sitting alone in the gloomy room, decades older. But there was just something he felt he had forgotten. The old figure scratched his chin. The heavy Baroque doors of the room creaked open, rudely disrupting his train of thought. He would have snapped if not for the woman who peered from the corridor.

Her violet strands and dull cobalt obs bobbed ever softly as she approached him, taking slow steps. She had changed quite a great deal over the years. Gazing at the photograph he held in his right hand, she spoke, "That's very cute. Do you miss her? She helped us out a lot. Ken and Chikusa liked to spend time with her. But you were never happy about her being around other men. Even boys." He looked at her, then back at the photograph.

"This," he said, holding the article up against the light. "You remember it. I can't. She looked, er, happy? But I don't think I've ever made anyone happy – except the Tenth. He knows I've never been friendly." He tilted his white head and furrowed his eyebrows. Chrome felt the corner of her mouth tug. She strutted up to a matching mahogany cabinet behind her friend and reached out for a photo album.

She placed the album in front of him. He cocked an eyebrow at her, but she only patted him on the shoulder and began dusting dirt off the cover of the album. The similarly old woman – who still looked in her 40s – turned the pages, stopping at the twelfth numbered page and pointed her index finger at the photograph in the top corner, to the right. She could see Gokudera putting on his confused expression again.

"You don't remember?" she chuckled dryly. The genuine look on his face put a halt to the humour. "Taken forty years ago. We were celebrating Boss' acceptance as head of Vongola. There, that's you with her legs on your head. Interesting position. Quite playful."

The old man examined the article, absorbing every fey expression, every whimsical gesture. He could feel his memory returning like a trickle of water from a leaking tap. However, that tap was plugged with clay when it came to the person sitting on top of him in the photograph.

Abruptly, she peered around the room, suspicious glances at every corner, before leaning in and whispered, "Did you remember to take your medication?" She lifted her head once more, peering at every suspicious corner. Gokudera thought she was hiding something, but he chose not to ask – she never liked getting others in her personal matters, especially when it came to her precious Master.

He nodded. "Yeah, I remembered," he said. "I remembered to forget to take it."

His fellow mafiosi pursed her lips in faint annoyance. As patient as she was, it was quite a challenge to maintain one's cool when a close friend constantly forgets everything. She gave up trying to help him remember his companion's name on his own.

"That's Uri. Uri the cat. I would say box weapon. But you would be mad," Chrome stated. Gokudera grimaced wryly, nodding in a phony act of understanding. "I'll bring your medicine for you next time. I'll get them from your house. Going back together?" He nodded uninterestingly.

The still strong mafiosi helped her acquaintance on his feet. She draped her arm around his as they went down the corridor to the elevator. She pressed the button, and both averted their attention to the digits displayed above the elevator's door. That uncomfortable silence was there again – even though they had known each other for many years.

_Ding._

Two elderly people stepped inside. Their eyes darted to and fro, but no other muscle did they made move.

_Ding._

Steel doors parted and the lift was flooded with the cold autumn air. Chrome edged closer to her company as they turned left and walked down the street. She could feel the fine hair on her arms and the back of her neck stand. Her body shivered, grasping Gokudera's cashmere coat firmly. She wished she had brought a warmer coat for such a cold day. Her partner nudged her. Too tight a grip, he had said. She relaxed and apologised.

She crossed the intersection, passed by Sol's Cafe block and made a right turn, their soft foot steps resonating on the silent asphalt of the road. As soon as the two had reached the other side, the Storm guardian nudged his company once more. He complained, "You're walking too fast; I think I hurt my back."

"Sorry," she apologised, rubbing his back. The cobalt-eyed woman carefully led him to the lift of the apartment block. Her effort of slowly leading him and watching his steps were met with a disgruntled grumbling from her friend. "What?" she asked. He shook his head.

"Is this the right block?" the old man questioned. She eyed him in a strange, puzzled sort of way. Her eyebrows were scrunched and her lips slightly apart, as if signaling to him that if he could not remember, then neither could she. He figured out that he was correct in that inference.

"Did you remember to take your medicine?" he teasingly asked, a sly grin lacing his lips. Chrome refused to look at him; her gaze was on the minute ants scrambling about in a corner. Tightening her hold on his arm, she frowned.

"At least," she said. "I don't hurt my back."

Gokudera grunted. "Oh, so you do take them. And here I thought you're good with memory. But not a good comeback there, think of something better next time, will ya," he replied.

"I know. No need to say it like that," she said in a hushed voice. By then, her lips resembled that of an orange peel, ends drooping downwards. She stepped forward and pressed the button to call the lift. "At your apartment...I have things to talk about. Can I keep you company?"

_Ding._

The two walked into the lift. She pressed the eighth floor button. "Just say so if you don't want to be out in the cold, or you're too scared to walk alone," his usual cynical reply came. He softly sighed, however, and edged closer towards her. "You can stay for as long as you like, though. I think I really hurt my back."

_Ding._

"Okay," she smiled.


	2. Dirty Talk Leads To An Unfortunate Event

Chrome led her friend to his flat, halting right before the door. "Key," she said. It was not a question, but a demand. The old man, however, was not as bright as he used to be. He simply stared back at her in an absent-minded confusion. "Key," she repeated. Suddenly a dim light flickered in his eyes.

"Oh," he realised. "I uh – I swear it's somewhere...here? Wait – this is really, well, don't just stand there!" he grumbled. Chrome hesitantly searched through the pockets of his coat. Why did the coat have so many pockets, she wondered. Surely just two would have sufficed. Then she realised that the key was in her wallet, and promptly dug it out before fitting it inside the lock. She twisted it and pushed open the door. "Well, that's smart," her company said, disgruntled.

"I'll make tea. Your coat," she spoke, as tactfully as ever. He handed her the pocket-ridden cashmere coat and made his way down a small flight of steps, immediately plopping down on the couch right beside it as the other person hung the coats. He reached out for the remote control and turned the television on, adjusting it to Channel One. It was half past five and the final episode of 'Hi, Larious!' was being aired.

Chrome brushed back her violet strands behind her ears, making her way to the kitchen – which was in the same room as the television, and the two segments were only divided by a bar table and three stools accompanying it. She rummaged through the closet, finding it somehow unfamiliar yet nostalgic at the same time. Never had she considered herself to be someone who could whip up decent dishes. Yet, on those seldom times she had made dinner for the boys, they would praise her culinary skills. She felt her cheeks going warm.

Reaching out for two sachets of tea leaves, she boiled the water and waited. Her eyes were fixated on the kettle. It was awfully boring. "Well, don't just stand there, then," Gokudera muttered. She was startled out of her monotonous and empty droning in her mind. Gokudera never took his eyes off the television screen for even one second. "Make something for dinner," he said, or demanded rudely, as Chrome would like to put it.

She shook her head, transferring eggs, noodles and fish from the refrigerator to the preparation counter. Carefully, she sliced the fish into thin slices. "No wonder they don't like you. The women," she mumbled under her breath. He grunted with not much interest.

"Kyoko likes me, Lal too, even Haru. The damned woman," he grumbled. Chrome placed a clay pot filled with water over a stove, and turned it on.

"Not them," she said.

"Don't get started on it," he said, putting his legs up. "I know what you're going to say. You can't speak about it until you actually get a man."

She served the warm cup of tea, her hands wavering. How annoying was he getting! "I fare better," she retorted. Chrome proceeded back to slicing the ingredients.

He waved her away. "Never got loved, I presume," he said. She ignored him, however he could see she was conflicted inside. Both were very tense – neither of them noticed the unlocked door and a certain someone enter the flat. "Well, I guess the bastard Mukuro had a lot of fun with you," he taunted. She gasped, taking a sudden step back. Then a sudden realisation was slapped across her face when she felt the presence of another person in the room. Gokudera strained himself to sit upright – and feeling a bone crack.

"Ah, having fun?" the figure asked. His face was plastered with an amused expression, as if he had found out an embarrassing secret. He turned to the cobalt-eyed woman with the knife and her defensive stance. "I won't ask you, don't worry. But I wonder, if I hadn't intruded, would things have developed..."

Gokudera glared at him as if he had death ray eyeballs. "Shut it, baseball freak. I wonder what made you, of all people, to become a nosy old man. Keep your nonsense to yourself or I'll have to stick dynamites up your ass," he growled, putting on his scariest face – which unfortunately, looked very ridiculous to the other two. Chrome dropped the kitchen knife in the sink and covered her face with her palms, shaking uncontrollably. "Am I hearing you crying over there, or something else...are you laughing?" he asked.

"S-Seizure," she replied lamely. Gokudera shook his head as Yamamoto heartily laughed. "But how-" she sniffed, pausing to rub tears from her eyes. "How did you get in, Yamamoto-san?"

A snort came from the Rain guardian. "Why, I flew, of course!" The Mist guardian laughed, her sounds like a melodious bell striking. Yamamoto grinned from ear to ear. "I just hate to see that graying old man there saying nasty stuff to you. You should smile and laugh more, Chrome," he gently said. She felt her heart gaining warmth, and kindly thanked him for his concern.

Gokudera rolled his eyes and turned back to his television drama. His eyes widened in awe when the scene involved the main character Larious behaving intimately with his girlfriend. Yamamoto sniggered, watching his reaction whilst Chrome hesitantly turned back to making the soup.

"Don't tell me you're intrigued by this kind of weak display?" Yamamoto teased, nudging the Storm guardian. He was promptly brushed away with the excuse of a back ache. The scene abruptly switched to the couple fighting. The three guardians paused to watch in silence.

"What's the name of this show again?" Yamamoto interrupted.

"Hi, Larious," replied Chrome. Her soup was done and she set it on the coffee table in front of the white haired old man – who was still gazing at the screen in awe.

Yamamoto chuckled sarcastically. "The name's hilarious, huh."

Gokudera nodded, and said, "It won a few awards."

The baseball loving man cocked an eyebrow, shaking his head in disbelief – partly because the Italian didn't get the joke. He had certainly heard that the drama series was famous for its intimate scenes, but he thought it was weak. It wasn't long before he found himself muttering about it. "Young'uns these days, they don't know anything," he lamented. "Right, Chrome?" he asked, a somewhat rhetoric question, at the lady who was sipping her soup. She refused to look at him. Gokudera eyed the two suspiciously.

"Hey, don't tell me," he started. "You..what? What the- huh? But I always thought she..."

Yamamoto patted his friend at the back, letting go when the Storm guardian cringed. "Ah, sorry. Kind of forgot that you're always breaking your bones nowadays," he said. "But don't think that we two just sat around with nothing to do at the base when the Boss took everyone else for a mission in Florence." Gokudera shivered at the thought, and turned to look at Chrome. She pretended to be interested in the television drama scene unfolding.

The Italian frowned, contemplating the idea of the outgoing baseball freak and the creepy witch being together. "You guys are great for Halloween. But that, it was many years ago, dumbass," he retorted. Yamamoto leaned in to a whisper.

He blew softly, making Gokudera shiver like a leaf, and softly, in a low and dangerous tone, asked, "You think?" Gokudera felt his stomach lurch.

Up and away the old man went, running at a fantastic Olympic sprinting speed – to the restroom. Yamamoto laughed, snorting and snickering, slapping his knees and nearly suffocating from his asthma. Chrome was a little taken aback, a spoonful of soup halfway to her mouth. She placed it back in the ceramic cream bowl.

"You shouldn't tell lies," she reprimanded.

Yamamoto chuckled heartily, and said, "But half of it was true, wasn't it?" He paused, looking at her in a more serious manner. The dark haired man approached a nearby stool, sitting on it. "That happened after Mukuro left to pursue his dream, he also took the cat guy and the yo-yo guy . But you wanted to stay here, with Tsuna and the rest. I guess, I started finding you interesting," he continued.

Chrome turned back to her soup, gazing at her clear reflection. True, she thought. Their relationship never worked out seriously, and nobody knew about it either. But she still loved the Rain guardian all the same. Nobody knew that decades ago, he had made tremendous effort to get her real internal organs, so she would never have to cast her illusion all the time. The violet haired woman softly touched her abdomen. Yamamoto had remarked that she had gained a pretty and red, thin scar from the operation.

"Thank you," Chrome said, a smile adorning her lips. Gokudera slowly approached them, dragging his feet and clutching his stomach.

"Don't worry about it," Yamamoto replied. "It felt good, didn't it?"

Up and away the old man went, running at a fantastic Olympic sprinting speed – to the restroom, again. "To have organs, I mean!" Yamamoto exclaimed, bursting into a hearty laugh, snorting and slapping his knees, nearly suffocating from his asthma again. Chrome reluctantly joined in the laughter, but halted when she realised her friend was expelling dry coughs.

"Yamamoto-san?" she asked. He seemed to be collapsing, and she feared the worst. "Yama--"

Crimson fluid was forcefully ejected with another fit of coughs. Chrome knocked over her bowl of soup, stepping over the coffee table. She held her friend in her arms. The woman raised his head to her level. His eyes were dull and his face, pale. He was losing his consciousness and she didn't exactly know what to do.

The warm, scarlet liquid kept flowing. She couldn't stop it.


End file.
